


that day is not today

by fonulyn



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: (Nicky gets kissed by a guard at Merrick's lab), (at the lab), Aftermath of Torture, Anger, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Temporary Character Death, Confrontations, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Joe gets to be angry, M/M, Nicky gets a gun in his mouth (twice), Non-consensual kiss, as per usual, as seen in the movie, canon-typical mentions of torture, it's pretty soft tbh, joe feels all the feelings, lots of comfort, me bleeding emotions all over everything, meant to hurt them, none of it very graphic, soft boys (can I still call them boys when they're 900+ years old?), some suggestive language too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fonulyn/pseuds/fonulyn
Summary: Joe is the last one, and he doesn’t pay much attention to the words that are exchanged in low voices. He closes the door behind himself, sags back against it, and squeezes his eyes shut for a second before taking in the sorry state they’re in.“Let me,” Booker says to Nicky, reaching out like he’s going to pick out a piece of bone or brain matter from his hair.Nicky spins around and punches him square in the face.The silence that follows is deafening. Everyone is staring, wide-eyed, even Nicky himself. Like he hadn’t actually meant to do that, but now that he did, he isn’t going to apologize for it either. The first sound that breaks the silent spell is Booker’s groan as he brings a hand to his nose, gingerly touching it as if to make sure it’s still where it’s supposed to be.“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.That is when Joe’s patience snaps. “Yousuppose!?”--Or the one wherein all the feelings are felt.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 72
Kudos: 724





	that day is not today

**Author's Note:**

> this started out as a fill for [this kinkmeme prompt](https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1106.html?thread=176210#cmt176210) but then it sort of grew a life of its own. it went places. I have no idea how to summarize it when the three major scenes feel so different :’D apparently I had more feelings about the ending than I thought I did? 
> 
> this is… not particularly Booker-friendly tbh because it literally takes place right after they’re released when everything is still fresh and the wounds are raw. for Booker, as much as for everyone else. so please take that into consideration :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this bit of self-indulgence.

There are times, Joe knows, when he talks too much. There are moments when it would be wiser to stay silent and not antagonize the people holding them prisoners. After working on it for centuries he is usually able to distinguish the situations where mouthing off is a shitty idea and when there is something to be gained from it.

The guard they're left with seems fidgety and, frankly, not all that bright, so it stands to reason Joe could get under his skin, cause him to make a mistake. It's a gamble, but with odds high enough he's willing to take it. They’re strapped down and unable to move, so there’s not much else for him to try, anyway. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten a guard tricked into unshackling him, or Nicky.

So he purposefully mouths off, even though it results in pain. Ever since they’d been left alone in the lab with the burly guard he’s been working on coming up with the most colorful insult he can find. After his most recent attempt he feels his nose break with a sick crack, but there’s still some level of satisfaction at having managed to get a rise out of this asshole. He’s pulled out some of his best insults for him, so he figures being punched in the face is still kind of worth it. 

“That the best you’ve got?” Joe gets out, laughing at the enraged look on the guard’s face. “Why don’t you get these restraints off me and I’ll show you a real punch?” He doesn’t even need to look at Nicky to know that he has that exact expression that’s a mix between fond and utterly exasperated. He’s probably rolling his eyes, too. But he knows what Joe’s doing, and knows it succeeds at a surprisingly high rate, so he keeps silent and lets things take their course.

Suddenly something shifts on the man’s face, though, and Joe has been around people enough to immediately realize it means trouble. There’s a hint of a smile, something utterly self-satisfied and smug in his expression. A part of Joe expects another punch, a harder one this time, but the man steps away from him instead. 

“And you?” The guard turns to look at Nicky. “You’ve got nothing to say?” He takes a step closer to Nicky, poking his side with the muzzle of his gun. “You really are a mouse. That why you need _him_ to defend you?” As he speaks he gestures towards Joe, looking triumphant like he’s somehow found the most devastating insult possible.

Joe can barely stop from rolling his eyes. Were they not tied down, the guard would be under no illusions about how vicious Nicky could be under the right circumstances. He already opens his mouth to retort something, but he’s cut off by the guard suddenly going on.

“There was a camera,” the guard says, almost as if to himself, but he glances at Joe and it’s obvious he’s really addressing him. The words don’t make sense, not really, until he adds an almost smug “In the van.” Almost possessively the man places a hand on Nicky’s chest, sliding his palm upwards until it rests against the hollow of Nicky’s throat.

For the first time during the exchange, there is genuine worry swirling in Joe’s gut. 

“So he defends your honor,” the guard turns back to Nicky again, “and what does he get in return, hm?” He’s moving closer, makes Nicky tilt his chin upwards by pressing tight against his throat. Not enough to crush his windpipe, no, but enough to restrict the airflow for the briefest of moments.

The tinge of worry turns into cold dread. Joe is never shy about showing his love for Nicky, doesn’t hesitate letting people know what he means to him. Yet as much good as it brings, as much as they both enjoy it, sometimes it backfires spectacularly when someone decides to use it against them.

Apparently now is one of those times. 

Joe tilts his head to meet Nicky’s eyes with his own, but they barely get a second before the guard grabs Nicky’s chin and makes him turn his head to face him instead. He rubs his thumb over Nicky’s lower lip, amusement dancing in his voice as he speaks. “I bet you’ve sucked a lot of cock,” he says, tightening his hold as Nicky tries to turn his head away, “with a mouth like that.”

That is all the warning either one of them gets before the man leans in and kisses Nicky.

In a split second Joe is straining against the restraints, trying to bodily throw himself off the table, screaming in wordless rage. It takes him a few more seconds to find actual words. “Get _away_ from him you fucking piece of _shit_!” The anger is so intense it’s burning him up from the inside, multiplied by worry and underlined by a layer of regret, but it’s fully impotent as there’s nothing he can do.

Yet already somewhere in the middle of his angry shouting, he registers that the guard is shouting too. 

There’s a moment of confusion when the man staggers back, holding his mouth, but Joe only spares him a glance before his attention is on Nicky again. Nicky, who is spitting out blood, and that is when it connects. Joe almost wants to laugh with how proud he suddenly is.

“You little _bitch_ ,” the man growls, striking Nicky’s face with the back of his hand, “you _bit_ me.”

“Not hard enough, it seems. You can still speak,” Nicky replies mildly, as if he’s remarking on the weather, and Joe’s heart swells in his chest with sheer affection. He’s fully aware that Nicky is scared, too, but he looks like the picture of calm to anyone who hasn’t known him for centuries. 

“You _fucking_ —” the guard spits out, but doesn’t even finish before he’s pressing his fingers to the hinges of Nicky’s jaw, forcing him to keep his mouth open. In one angry, swift motion he has pushed his gun between Nicky’s teeth, jammed the muzzle down against the back of his throat. “Try biting _now_ , asshole.”

Nicky’s jaw is tense, his throat working as he’s trying to suppress his gag reflex the best he can. He doesn’t want to reward his assailant with the reactions he’s so clearly after, but the gun is in so deep, it’s making his eyes water and his chest heave as he tries to stay still.

And Joe is ready to snap the guard’s neck with his bare hands. 

The moment is broken by the sharp click of the door opening, and quickly the guard pulls his gun back and steps to the side, his posture stiff and his face disinterested, as if he’d been standing there motionless this entire time. The only sign of what passed is the way Nicky is still subtly trying to take deep, steadying breaths, his fingers trembling and arms flexing against the restraints. 

Joe makes a low sound in the back of his throat, and he knows Nicky can hear the question in it even though it’s not even a word. Their eyes meet for a second, a second that is like balm on Joe’s frayed nerves, and then the doctor steps between them and blocks their line of sight to one another. She’s silent only for a moment, as no matter how many questions from her they ignore she seems intent to keep on asking. “Have you ever regrown entire organs?” 

Before he can stop it, Joe snorts. He could give a list of the occasions, although honestly he’d probably forget a few. He doesn’t offer an explanation though, instead closes his eyes and pretends like she isn’t even there. 

Even when he feels the sharp blade cut into his skin, he keeps his eyes closed.

*

Joe has always been an optimist, to the point that Andy has scoffed at him numerous times and fondly called him an idiot. It’s impossible for him to think that there isn’t good in the world, that things don’t tend to work out fine in the end. He hasn’t spent centuries watching Nicky reach out a helping hand over and over again, just to ignore that same kindness in other people.

He knows it’s there. He knows, despite the atrocities he’s seen, that the capacity for kindness the humankind has persists no matter what. He knows it also because it still lives in his own heart, after nearly a millennium. 

It’s hard to remain positive when Andy and Booker show up.

Finding out about Andy’s mortality is like being stabbed. It’s a sharp pain, sudden and overwhelming, and Joe files it away in the back of his mind because he can not deal with it now. He doesn’t have the capacity for it, not when they’re all strapped down to the tables, when the chances of rescue seem close to zero and they’ll have to somehow miraculously make an escape on their own. Without Andy getting killed in the process because that is no longer an option. 

Finding out about Booker’s betrayal is, in some way, worse. It’s white hot rage, born from a dull, all-encompassing pain that spreads like wildfire from Joe’s heart all the way to the tips of his toes. He yells, because that amount of anger can not do anything but boil over. 

It’s easier to let the anger wash over him than try to sort through the agony it stems from.

Then Nile is there. 

Nile, who Andy said was ‘gone’. Nile, who no one expected to come. Nile, who is so fierce and so strong and determined to get them out of there like it’s the only possible thing to do. 

As soon as he’s free of the restraints, Joe instinctively looks for Nicky. Their gazes meet, hold for a second, and then Joe forces himself to move. He sees his shirt discarded on the floor and he grabs it, pulls it back on in one swift motion. All he wants to do is reach for Nicky and pull him close to reassure them both, wants to hold _Andy_ and make sure she’s alright, wants to hug Nile something _fierce_ to thank her for coming for them.

All he does is grab a gun and get ready. There will be time for everything else later.

Except there’s not. 

The moment Joe sees the gun in Nicky’s mouth, hears the sound of it discharging, his world stops spinning. There is nothing else, no one else, as he crawls closer on his knees. His hands are shaking, his heart beating in his throat, and there’s nothing else in his mind except for the _no no no no no please no come back to me please don’t let this be the end not now not today_.

He comes to a halt with his knees on either side of Nicky’s head, blood soaking into his jeans. As he reaches out to touch he hesitates. What if Nicky won’t get up again? What if he’s cold to the touch and that’s how he’ll remain? Joe can’t bring himself to touch, his shaking hands hovering a few inches away, like he’s cradling Nicky’s face from afar. 

And he looks away, closes his eyes, because _what if this is it_? 

Andy is mortal now, so what if it means the rest of them are too, what if it happens to Nicky, what if this is the final death he doesn’t wake from. What if it is his time. Bitterly he regrets not pulling Nicky in when he had the chance. For not taking a second to simply hold him before they walked out of that lab. If that was his last chance and he wasted it, if he never gets to look into those bright eyes full of life again, if he—

A loud gasp breaks Joe from his trance.

Relief washes through him so intensely it’s like all air is punched out of him. He reaches out, his hand on Nicky’s arm, and when Nicky reaches right back it’s like something aligns in Joe’s chest and makes his world right again. He stares down at Nicky, looks into his eyes, and even though neither one of them says a single word there are worlds that pass between them. It is not their time yet, today is not the day.

All Joe wants to do is gather Nicky up into his arms but there’s no time for it. There’s no time.

So he gets up, and he fights on.

Later, after Joe breaks through the window, he comes face to face with the man who shot Nicky. He looks straight into the man’s eyes but all he sees is blood splattered on the floor, the vacant look on Nicky’s face, and it’s like he’s suffocating again. All air rushes from his lungs, his heart clenching, and he relives those few seconds wherein he thought he may have lost the love of his life for good.

His limbs feel like lead. As soon as the soldier’s neck snaps, Joe lets go and falls onto his knees, all fight gone out of him.

The guard who kissed Nicky earlier is lying in a pool of blood on the floor, and somehow Joe expects a flash of disappointment as someone else – probably Andy, judging by the looks of it – got to him before Joe did. 

It never comes. But there is a sense of peace, in the knowledge that his family is safe.

Only when he hears Nicky’s voice, shouting that they need to move, Joe forces himself back on his feet.

*

Not a word is spoken in the car. They drive, until Nile is sagging against Nicky in the backseat, half asleep, until Andy almost swerves off the road simply because she nods off for a second. In hindsight it’s not even that long but now that they’re free, now that the adrenaline is fading, it’s getting increasingly difficult to stay alert.

Andy pulls over beside a roadside motel, and breaks the silence with only “Book. With me.” before getting out of the car. In silence Joe slides into the driver’s seat, and when Andy eventually steps outside again she immediately gestures for him which direction to take. He stops the car in front of the door to their room for the night, and it is only then that they all file out.

Joe is the last one, and he doesn’t pay much attention to the words that are exchanged in low voices. He closes the door behind himself, sags back against it, and squeezes his eyes shut for a second before taking in the sorry state they’re in.

“Let me,” Booker says to Nicky, reaching out like he’s going to pick out a piece of bone or brain matter from his hair.

Nicky spins around and punches him square in the face. 

The silence that follows is deafening. Everyone is staring, wide-eyed, even Nicky himself. Like he hadn’t actually meant to do that, but now that he did, he isn’t going to apologize for it either. The first sound that breaks the silent spell is Booker’s groan as he brings a hand to his nose, gingerly touching it as if to make sure it’s still where it’s supposed to be.

“I suppose I deserved that,” he says.

That is when Joe’s patience snaps. “You _suppose _!?” He ignores the half-formed words meant to placate him from Nicky and the look he gets from Andy, instead straightening to his full height as he strides from the doorway and right into Booker’s personal space. They’re face to face, Booker not backing down an inch, and Joe lets his voice drop from a shout to a low growl. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t follow his example.”__

__They’re all aware he probably wouldn’t. Yet he’s never before been sold out by someone he’s considered family for two long centuries, either, so who really knows anything for sure. Joe certainly doesn’t. His fingers are itching to throw that punch, but at the same time all he wants to do is fall on his knees and cry._ _

__He does neither. Instead he stares Booker down, waits for his response, holding his breath._ _

__Booker looks down at their feet, fidgets for a second, before he looks up and meets Joe’s eyes. He looks so _tired_. Sounds even worse. “I just wanted this to _end_.”_ _

__In one breath Joe releases all air from his lungs, the anger sparking again. “I didn’t! _Nicky_ didn’t!” Everyone notices how he doesn’t mention Andy, no one quite sure where she stands right now, but no one comments on the omission. “Who are _you_ to make this decision for us? There’s still life for us left, there’s still good we can do, the—”_ _

__“ _Good_?” Booker cuts Joe off with a laugh, one that is bitter and hollow. “How do we even know what that is? We save one life, maybe two, but how many people do we kill in the process? How do we know _they_ didn’t deserve to live? So who are we to make that decision for them, hm? Don’t pretend even for a second we’re not playing God with what we do.”_ _

__Joe doesn’t know what to say, he opens his mouth, but all he gets out is a breath before Booker goes on._ _

__“We’re just _human_. We have been on the wrong side of conflicts before.” As he speaks he turns to look straight at Nicky, like he somehow expects for him to back him up. Like he can convince him of this, like he is the weakest link. Like he isn’t as deeply hurt by Booker’s actions as any one of them. And then he hits below the belt. “You—we have killed for the wrong cause. There is innocent blood on our hands.” _ _

__Joe’s blood boils. Booker has _no right_ to tug on that particular string. He knows how Nicky still struggles with guilt even after nearly a millennium, how he still sometimes has nightmares he wakes up shaking from, because he blames himself for his actions in his first lifetime. Booker _knows_ this, and he shamelessly exploits it, as if he has any right to when those sins were committed centuries before his time, when those sins were _atoned for_ centuries before he drew his first breath. He wasn’t there for those first hundred of years. Or the second. _ _

__So when Booker goes on, his voice rising, “We’ve _slaughtered_ —”_ _

__“You _don’t get to say that_!” Joe snaps. “You don’t fucking get to—” He barely knows what he’s yelling when Booker keeps yelling back at him, their voices mixing already before they slip into a mix of languages without noticing. Distantly he hears Nicky trying to interject something, too._ _

__“Enough!”_ _

__Nile’s voice cuts through the commotion so sharply that it makes everyone fall silent. She looks equal parts determined and shaken, but now that she has everyone’s attention she uses the opportunity. “Look, I know I’m new. I know there’s hundreds of years’ worth of shit I’m not even aware of. But Andy is still bleeding,” she gestures at her, as if to make a point, then vaguely at herself, “I am _disgusting_. Nicky has more blood and brains than hair on his head.” _ _

__She pauses for impact, before enunciating every single word carefully, firmly. “And we are _not_. Doing. This. _Now_.”_ _

__She looks almost nervous at first, but it only lasts for a second. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and looks every bit of the fierce warrior she’s shown herself to be. She’s not going to back down, she will stand behind her words._ _

__“She’s right,” Andy says, silent, drawing attention to her. She seems exhausted beyond anything, but as she looks up from where she’s slouched in the armchair her eyes are clear and it’s obvious she’s made up her mind. “We’re not.”_ _

__Andy looks through their miserable group, and when she speaks again her voice is less tired and more just firm, like she knows she needs to take charge and she will. “Nile, shower. Book, sit your ass down. Joe.” she pauses for long enough to throw a wallet at him. He catches it easily. “Go get another room for you and Nicky.” She reads Joe’s expression and adds. “We can’t all sleep in this one.”_ _

__Joe wants to argue. How is he supposed to trust Booker with Andy and Nile? How are they supposed to sleep at all, at a time like this? There are only two beds anyway, how are they going to—_ _

__Then there’s a soft touch on his arm and when he looks up, Nicky meets his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. And after a second Joe sighs and turns to nod at Andy. “You got it, boss.”_ _

____

*

Neither of them speaks during the shower. Joe works his fingers through Nicky’s hair, gently massages his scalp and reminds him that he is whole again, he hasn’t left him and he is right there beside him. They are both alive. He avoids looking at what washes down the drain, keeps his focus on how the strands of hair get clean underneath his touch, on the way Nicky relaxes in increments.

They towel off after they’ve gotten the blood and gore off themselves, slip into fresh clothes and try to pretend that neither of them notices the shirt Nicky is wearing is actually Booker’s. Instead of acknowledging it they slip into bed, neither of them particularly caring the pillows will be soaked because of them not drying their hair. Instead they settle down face to face, so close they’re going a little cross-eyed, so close they can tangle their legs together. 

It is then that Joe breaks the silence with a soft “I’m sorry.”

A myriad of emotions flits through Nicky’s wide, expressive eyes, but the only thing he says out loud is “For what?” 

For a second, Joe hesitates. The past days are a lot to unpack, too much for him to put in simple words even for the man who knows him better than he knows himself. There is an all encompassing sorrow within his heart, laced together with anger and hurt, and the only thing that pierces through that now is the sheer amount of affection he feels for Nicky. “For letting us get caught,” he chokes out, the first thing he manages to verbalize. 

Nicky shakes his head. His lips twist into a frown, and when he speaks it’s firm. “No.” He pauses for effect, to allow the word to sink in properly, and as he goes on he reaches out to brush a wet curl off Joe’s forehead. “You know as well as I do that you aren’t to blame for that. I let it happen as much as you did. Would you like to share the culpability?”

He has won the argument before it has even started, and they both know what Joe’s answer for that question will be. So Joe doesn’t bother giving the answer and instead goes on, voice choked with emotion. “For not being able to protect you.”

“No.” Again it’s only a single word, accompanied by the smallest of headshakes. 

Quickly, before Nicky can get another word in, Joe continues. “For running my mouth.” 

This time Nicky closes his eyes for a second, huffing out a breath. “No,” he says, then, “you had every reason to believe it might work. I will not have you apologize for trying to get us out of there.”

Despite himself, Joe can’t help but let his lips curl into a smile. He’s certain that the love he feels is shining in his eyes, as he gazes at the other half of his very soul. The soft laugh falls from him unannounced, and he reaches out to brush his knuckles over Nicky’s cheek. “Are you going to allow me to apologize for anything?”

Nicky smiles. “No.” 

And Joe almost wants to give in, almost leans in and gathers Nicky in his arms to pull him closer. He needs to get the nagging thoughts silenced first, though, and it spurs him on to speak. “He _kissed_ you.” It’s said in a mere breath, barely audible in the darkness of the room. Yet it almost feels like a gunshot with the impact it has on Joe himself. If he closes his eyes he can still see it, can still hear Nicky gag.

“Yusuf.” It’s soft, it’s gentle, coaxing Joe’s attention back where it belongs instead of being commanding. Nicky brushes the pads of his fingers over Joe’s lips, tracking the movement with his eyes. “You have kissed me thousands of times. _Those_ are the kisses I will remember. _This_ is the mouth I will remember.” As if to underline his words he closes the last bit of distance between them, brushes his own lips over Joe’s, in the faintest and gentlest of kisses. “I am fine.”

The tears come unbidden, but Joe has never been too proud to cry so he lets them fall. “He put that gun in your mouth. They both did. And I’m sor—”

“ _No_ ,” Nicky cuts him off. He pushes his fingers into Joe’s hair, smoothes them through the curls, gently works out a knot that has formed. “That is not on you.”

The sheer determination, the amount of conviction in his voice, it is enough to settle something in Joe’s chest and he relaxes ever so slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do with you,” he jokes, voice choked, but the smile is still audible in it. How could it not be, when he still gets to have _this_?

Nicky looks at him, mirrors the smile. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The silence that follows is easier than the oppressive one from before. Nicky keeps using his fingers to untangle Joe’s hair, but by this point he’s practically only petting him as all the tangles are long gone. He slips his fingers low, presses against the back of Joe’s skull, and draws a line along his jaw with his thumb. 

The last of the unease melts off Joe, and he finds himself speaking. “I’m sorry for getting so angry at the lab.” He hadn’t been able to help it, his temper flaring and his hurt manifesting in anger, and he can still hear Nicky telling him to calm down as he yells at Booker. This time he truly expects Nicky to let him apologize, so he continues. “It wasn’t helpful, it wasn’t… I just yelled at him and we needed to keep a clear head, I…”

“ _No_.” The vehemence in Nicky’s voice surprises Joe into silence. He looks at Nicky’s eyes, and for once he can’t unpack all of the emotions he sees swirling in them, can’t even name all of his own emotions he sees reflected back at him. 

Nicky takes his time. He isn’t always silent and reserved, he can be lively and vibrant too, but when he really wants to make sure he says the right words he lets them come slow. “You have every right to feel anger,” he says, at length. “I know you. I know what is going on in that head of yours. You can love him and be angry at him at the same time. You don’t need to pretend that the anger doesn’t exist.”

“You are so calm though,” Joe says, soft.

“I am not.” Nicky looks down, breaks the eye contact. There’s a twitch in his jaw, and all Joe wants to do is smooth it out, to kiss along that jawline and gather Nicky close. Yet he waits, allows the words to have their space when they’re needed. And Nicky goes on. “I am not. I am so angry I don’t know what to do with it. I haven’t felt this kind of anger in centuries.” He looks up again, connects their eyes. “I watched them tear pieces of you for _so long_. I will not forget that for as long as I’ll live.”

Joe hums. He knows that feeling. He shares that feeling. Carefully, he asks the question he knows the answer to. “Will you forgive?”

It comes without hesitation. “Those monsters at the lab? Never.” Nicky lifts his chin, as if daring someone to disagree with him, although he knows more than well that disagreement is not going to come. As he goes on, the firmness in his voice cracks, raw emotion bleeding through. “Booker? One day.” The muscle in his jaw flexes again. “But that day is not today.”

Joe nods in agreement. “That day is not today.” He doesn’t know how he will face Booker in the morning. He doesn’t know how they will handle this and how they can ever move on from being stabbed in the back by the one person they were supposed to be able to trust. 

One day. Not today. Not tomorrow. Joe knows his anger will burn intense and fast, knows Nicky’s will fester and linger for far longer. Yet now, for the first time all day, he thinks that affection will outlast even that.

So Joe reaches out and pulls Nicky in, presses him so close he can tuck his face into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent until there’s nothing else. So maybe they cling onto one another a little tighter tonight, maybe they wake up to check each other’s pulse more than once, but every time they find their solace in each other. 

Life goes on.

**Author's Note:**

> [also on tumblr](https://fonulyn.tumblr.com/post/630341984912048128/that-day-is-not-today-joenicky-the-old-guard)! come say hi!


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